Tales of the Time Lord Academy
by Gallifreyan Phoenix
Summary: Slices of life at the Time Lord Academy. Featuring student!Doctor/Theta Sigma, student!Master/Koschei, as well as a student!Patrex OC.
1. Negativity

**Author's Note: As always, this was written at the behest of my muse. This collection of stories is meant to be towards the end of the Doctor's and Master's time at the Academy. In my mind, it's the equivalent of third/fourth year in university.**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine. Sadly. My information concerning the Academy was compiled from a book released by the BBC and a couple reputable DW sites.**

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><p><span><em><strong>Negativity<strong>_

Koschei rested his chin on his palm. He idly tapped out a rhythm on the table with his free hand. Across from him, Theta shot him a withering glare. While the noise wasn't enough to bother anyone else in the library, the tapping was driving Theta spare.

_One two three, four._

_One two three, four._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_FOUR._

"Koschei," Theta said sweetly, through clenched teeth, "if you don't stop that infernal tapping, I am going to murder you. Then put you in your own stasis cube art so that no one will find your body."

"Hm?" Koschei looked up from the book he had been reading intently. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

If nothing else, he rapped the table louder.

Theta stared at the offending hand as though to burn it. "You're doing it again."

Koschei followed Theta's gaze. Then he smiled. "Well well, so I am. Does it bother you?"

"I suppose you didn't hear my threat a moment ago?"

Koschei's smile widened impossibly. "No, I did. I just don't believe you've got the nerve." The smile faded and he stopped making the repetitive noise. "But I don't feel like doing it anymore."

"Good. I cannot afford to let my marks fall any lower."

Koschei studied him a moment, then deadpanned, "I wasn't aware that was possible. Do they have negative marks now?"

Wordlessly, Theta collected his study materials and left. Koschei stared at the place his friend had been sitting a moment ago, then shrugged. And resumed the tapping.

"Was it something I said?"


	2. Supplemental

**Author's Note: ****Since I've not read any books related to the Academy, my knowledge is limited to what I've gleaned from various DW sites and from what amounts to my Time Lord Academy Bible, _Doctor Who: The Ultimate Guide_. That said, for the purposes of this fic, there are only three Time Lord Chapters: Arcalian, Prydonian, and Patrex. You can pretend that the other three Chapters are educated in a separate part of the Academy, if you like.**** Hopefully I've kept my Patrex girl away from Mary-Sue territory. If not, forgive me. ****I'm just having fun.**

**Story Note: Mind Bending is ****Time Lord wrestling. According to the Doctor: "It's usually a game but it can end in death lock." ~ _The Brain of Morbius: Part 4_**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine. Sadly. My information concerning the Academy was compiled from a book released by the BBC and a couple reputable DW sites.**

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><p><strong><em><span>Supplemental<span>_**

Students paced the corridors, heading to their next classes. A parade of colored robes, each hue denoting a Chapter of the Academy: emerald green and earth-toned brown Arcalians, orange and scarlet Prydonians, and heliotrope and deep purple Patrexes. Spaced at certain turnings of the corridors were small study rooms to be used by students with free-study periods of time, so that they would remain productive and out of the way of others until their next class. Secreted away in one of these little alcoves, Trithirin hunched over her work. She had left the door ajar, so she could hear the class alert bell. Her mind was half in her own world; the other half occupied itself with eavesdropping on snippets of students' conversations as they passed.

"…I know! I fell asleep… I did _not_ drool on the desk! How undignified…"

"…What did you make of that test in Future History? I swear Number 4 was a trick…"

"…Look at all this purple! There a mural going to be painted about here or something, do you suppose? …About all they're good for, eh?…"

Trithirin's graphite snapped as she put too much pressure on the arcane writing implement. Adjusting her own purple robes, she settled into a more comfortable position and snatched up her sharpener. Pencils were long a thing of the past, a novelty more than anything, but she liked them. She turned the end of the pencil in the sharpener with a little too much vigor. Satisfied with the graphite's point, she returned to her sketching. She had two blissful hours of free time before she had to return to the throng in the halls—no, before she had to endure the torture known as Advanced Recreational Mathematics. Thank Rassilon himself she only had another linear month before she could take the final examination. She would not be returning to that class after break. Perhaps she would fill the time with another Future History or Languages class. Or perhaps even TARDIS maintenance; that one would be interesting. Decidedly better than the infernal study of Happy Prime Numbers and their relation to the inter-dimensional nexus of causality of the constellation of Kasterborous.

"…I said, hello? May I sit here a moment?"

Trithirin's head snapped up, her hand pausing mid-shading. "_What_?"

The Prydonian standing across from her at the table smiled. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to give you a start."

Trithirin drew in a deep breath. "No, no, it's fine. I just didn't hear you come in. Of course. This study room is for everyone, isn't it?"

He sat across from her and pulled out a small book from the inside pocket of his outer robe. Silence once again reigned, punctuated by the sudden klaxon of the classes bell. _Two linear hours of freedom starts now_, Trithirin thought. A smile slipped onto her lips. She added a curly-queue to the whatsit she was sketching. It looked sort of like a Yeti, but with decidedly bigger eyes and a more short stature, if the tree drawn next to it was any indicator of scale. Her drawing skills were not the best, but putting graphite to paper relaxed her. A kind of strange writing system littered the upper corner of the page, not quite legible but certainly of alien origin.

"Free period, then?"

Trithirin repressed the urge to twitch at the sound of the Prydonian's quiet voice.

"Yes," she replied curtly. She glanced up at him. "What are you reading, if you don't mind me asking?"

His hazel eyes widened and he dropped the book down so she couldn't see the cover. "Um, something for independent study. What are you drawing?"

Trithirin smirked. "Something for independent study."

He laughed. "Touché. I'm Theta Sigma by the way. Most just call me Theta."

"Trithirin. Irin, if you like."

He frowned slightly. "Don't we have a class together?"

For the first time, Irin actually put down her pencil and met Theta Sigma's gaze. He was dressed in the usual Prydonian colors, of course, and his light brown hair was immaculately combed down—except for a small piece of his fringe that seemed to have a mind of its own and stuck up at an angle. At the same time she noticed, he reached up and flattened it back in place. His hazel eyes had a certain spark of mischief to them, which was natural considering he was in the Prydonian Chapter, but there was something else…

Irin pointed at him with her kneaded eraser. "Advanced Telepathy!"

"Oh, right!" He grinned. "But you sit at the very front, and I sit at the back."

"With the troublemakers—like that Koschei trying to get people into a Mind Bending competition during lecture."

Theta rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah," he drawled, "not exactly his finest hour. You have to admit, though, lecture is a bit dry. It's the practical application that's any fun."

"Education is not meant to be fun," Irin deadpanned, meeting his gaze. "Education is meant to better the mind and prepare students for the glorious responsibility that is being a Time Lord."

Theta laughed. He rested his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. "To quote Professor Borusa."

"Indeed." Irin grinned. She began absent-mindedly tracing the outline of the Seal of Rassilon in an empty patch of her sketching paper. She sighed. "I don't believe that, though. Shouldn't there be an element of joy in learning? In becoming an adult? Otherwise, what's the point?"

"If you weren't wearing heliotrope, I'd still pick you out as a Patrex." Theta Sigma picked up his book again, but was careful not to display the title.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Theta put up his hand in a sign of peace. "Nothing. I was just commenting that your robes suit you. The color brings out your eyes." He winked.

Irin's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

He nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Pleasant place, Nowhere. It's autumn all year and the inhabitants imbibe nothing but pumpkin-infused liquids."

Irin stared at him. Then she burst into laughter. "You are so full of it. Prydonian through and through."

Theta dipped his head in a mock bow. "I try."

They returned to their solitary pursuits once again, but in a less tense silence than before. The only sound was the slight swish and scratch of Irin's pencil. She had switched from sketching and was now composing some sort of prose. Or perhaps it was free-verse poetry. She wasn't sure yet. Every once in a while, she would glace up at Theta Sigma, who was leaning his chair on its back legs and reading intently. He wasn't speed-reading, either, but taking his time about it. It must be a very interesting read. Finally, Irin couldn't withstand the mystery anymore.

"All right, Theta Sigma, what are you reading?"

He got that stricken look on his face again, which he quickly schooled into a neutral expression. "As I said, supplemental reading."

"For which class?"

"Thermodynamics."

She reached across the table. "Then let me see."

"No!"

Theta pulled back. His balance lost, his chair toppled over backwards. He breathed out a string of curses in Old High Gallifreyan and tried to disentangle himself from the heap of his robes and the chair. The book slid away on the polished floor.

Irin grimaced. She left her chair and rounded to his side of the table. "I'm so, so sorry! I didn't mean to make you… Here, Theta, let me help you up."

She offered her hand. Theta Sigma stared at it a moment angrily. Then he took her hand and allowed Irin to help him to his feet. He brushed off his robes, straightening them out, then righted the chair.

"I'm so sorry," Irin apologized again.

Theta smiled wryly. "Not completely your fault, I guess."

Irin's eyes lighted on the book, which was close to her feet. "Oh! Your book."

She picked it up, but rather than hand it back to him, she opened it to the title page. Theta made as though to snatch it out of her hands. He then thought better of it and plunged his hands in his pockets instead. _He's sulking_, Irin noted. But that thought was short-lived as she read the title of the contested book.

_The Collected Works of Jules Verne._

"Jules Verne," Irin whispered. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "You're reading a 19th Century Earth author?"

Theta Sigma squared his shoulders. He returned her gaze levelly. "Yes. And so?"

Irin regarded him levelly. "Can I borrow this after you're finished?"

Theta Sigma stared at her as though she had just sprouted an extra head. "What?"

"May I borrow your book when you have read it?"

"_What_?"

Irin pushed the book back at him. Theta took it from her, still watching her as though she was a curiosity from some type of exhibit. She sighed and turned away to gather up her things. She'd have to go back to her classes in a little while; the bell was surely about to sound.

"Do you swear not to tell anyone?" Theta asked.

Irin nodded and looked up at him. "I swear."

"Then yes, once I'm done with it, you can have it next." He smiled. "No one else has wanted to read anything I like before. Other than Koschei, that is."

The bell sounded.

Irin shouldered her small book satchel. "It was good to meet you, Theta, outside of class. You're not half-bad, despite what your choice in friends might say to the contrary."

"Thanks." His eyebrows drew together. "I think. It was good to run into someone with a more refined taste in literature, as well."

Irin pushed the door open fully, then turned back. "Enjoy the rest of your free period."

"Er… Yeah. I mean, yes. Thank you. I will."

Irin allowed a smirk to form as she walked down the corridor. Of course he'd been skipping class. What an interesting person. For a Prydonian.


	3. Re-Take?

**Author's Note: It's official. Koschei has once again commandeered my brain.**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who doesn't belong to me. Sad panda.**

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><p><strong><em><span>Re-take?<span>_**

Koschei licked his finger and turned the page of Theta's copy of _The Collected Works of Jules Verne_. Well, Theta's _borrowed_ copy of the book. Thus far, the Museum of Alien Antiquities hadn't missed it. It was only a matter of time, of course. Koschei smiled. Everything was only a matter of time when one was a Time Lord. He couldn't wait to be formally endowed with that title and all the privileges that went with it. He planned on inducing regeneration almost immediately, if only as an experiment, to see just what it was like. What's one life when he'd have twelve more?

Theta skulked into the study room. He raised an eyebrow at Koschei's feet propped up on the desk. Koschei did his level best to appear innocent, but did not move his feet. Theta plopped into the chair across from his friend and dropped his head into his hands. His usually immaculate hair was a mess as he ran his fingers through it agitatedly.

"Problem?" Koschei asked, still reading.

Theta mumbled something incoherent.

"You what?"

Theta looked up, distress lining his face. "I failed," he half-whispered, half-wailed. "I failed TARDIS Flight. What is wrong with me? It's one of my favorite classes!"

"What happened? You studied for it, didn't you?" He licked his finger again to turn another page. Then he frowned and raised his gaze. "You didn't argue with the professor about the TARDIS Manual again, did you?"

Theta grimaced. "…Yes. But the Manual was wrong about—"

Koschei clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Theta, Theta. That's where you made your mistake. Didn't you know? The Manual is infallible."

Theta blew out a sigh. "I just can't keep my mouth shut, can I?"

"Not when it's good for you, no," Koschei deadpanned, continuing his reading.

"That was rhetorical!"

The corners of Koschei's lips curled up. "That nicely proves the point, don't you think?"

Theta let his head drop onto the desk in front of him.

"Sulking doesn't suit you," Koschei chided.

"Oh shut up. Are you done with that book yet?"

"Just about. Why? Getting nervous about your stolen property?"

Theta sat up straight, eyes wide. "Seriously, shut it. What if someone _hears_ you?"

"Then it's your head and not mine." Koschei smiled sweetly.

"You're reading the book, though!"

"Is reading a crime now? Honestly, Theta, no wonder you're a failure."

"It's fine." Theta sounded as though he meant to convince himself rather than Koschei. "There's always the re-take."

"She doesn't allow re-takes, the professor of TARDIS Flight," Koschei informed him, his eyes fixed on the last page of _The Collected Works of Jules Verne_.

"You're joking," Theta squawked.

"She did tell us at the beginning of the term, or were you not paying attention?"

Theta's mouth dropped open. He closed it with an audible snap. He looked like a child with a broken toy.

"Don't cry, my dear Theta," Koschei teased. "Time and space travel is overrated."

Theta groaned.


	4. The Art of Failing

**Author's Note: I'm having too much fun. Seriously.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but Irin, my own wayward character.**

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><p><strong><em><span>The Art of Failing<span>_**

"Hey, ah, Theta?"

Theta looked up from the complex equation he was drafting. "Yes?"

Koschei leaned on Theta's shoulder conspiratorially, though no one else was nearby in the library. "How'd you do on that last test?"

Theta blinked. "Which one? This _is_ exam week, Koschei."

"You know, the one you needed tutoring for? Future History, was it?"

Theta shrugged awkwardly, since Koschei was still leaning heavily on his right shoulder. "I did well enough. Why?" Somehow Theta doubted it was due to the goodness in his friend's heart that he was asking these questions.

Koschei looked pained. Then he said in a rush, "I'm failing Stasis Cube Art."

"You what?" Theta tried not to smile, but he didn't succeed. At least he wasn't laughing. Yet. "Failing Stasis Cube Art? How did you manage that?"

Koschei leaned harder on Theta's shoulder, making him wince. "Shut up. Not so loud."

"Fine. Sorry. Can you get off my shoulder, please?"

Surprisingly, Koschei complied. He sat next to Theta instead. "It has to do with a…certain incident. Harmless joke. And, well, the professor said unless I impress him with the next exam, I'll be receiving failing marks regardless of how I do at final examinations."

"I'm not even going to ask what you did."

Koschei nodded sagely. "Let's just say it had to do with a timer, a stasis cube, and some ten-legged Cordatan spiders."

Theta groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Why do I even bother? So what do you want me to do? I'm busy with my own problem class." He waved a hand over his equations to demonstrate.

Koschei grimaced and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I…I need a tutor. You know of a couple, right?"

"Not for _Stasis Cube Art_, I don't," Theta chuckled. "I believe you are on your own."

"Oh come on! I helped you study for Cosmic Science. Please. Help me."

Theta sighed. "Fine. I don't know of any tutors, per se, but I do know someone in Patrex of whom we might ask help."

"We?"

Theta smiled thinly. "You have not made a good impression on her, so I have a feeling I will need to liaise between the two of you." He glanced down at his equations and sighed. So much for studying.

Once he had cleared up his study materials, Theta and Koschei left the library and headed towards the common area. Students from various Chapters lounged about, chatting about classes and future job prospects and whatever else they pleased. Theta scanned the area. There were a surprising amount of heliotrope robes about today. Not to mention that she mightn't even be in the common area…

"So," Koschei drawled, bringing up the subject again, "this Patrex girl doesn't like me, eh?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes, well, she doesn't approve of your mischief. Neither do I, come to that."

Koschei chuckled. "What's the Earth expression? The pot calling the kettle black?"

"Days long gone, Koschei. You don't see her anywhere, do you?"

Koschei rolled his eyes and propped his elbow up on Theta's shoulder. "I don't even know who we're looking for."

"Trithirin."

Kochei raised his eyebrows. "Still doesn't help, Theta."

"She's in our Advanced Telepathy class," Theta explained slowly, as though to a child. "Grey eyes, ginger hair, sits front and center in the lecture hall?"

"Oh, that explains it." Koschei grinned. "You and gingers." He shook his head in mock disapproval.

Theta moved away so that Koschei wasn't leaning on him anymore. "Shut up and help me look. Or do you want to fail?"

Koschei gestured elegantly with a hand. "Isn't that her? Sitting with some other Patrexes over there?"

"Oh. Yes. You're right."

Koschei grinned wolfishly. "Let's go say hello, shall we?"

"Let me do the talking, remember?" Theta reminded him as they strolled over. He smiled at the knot of Patrexes sitting at a round table. "Excuse me, but would you mind if we borrowed Trithirin for a few minutes?"

Trithirin looked up from the outline one of her friends was explaining. "Theta? …And Koschei," she added without enthusiasm.

"Good afternoon," Koschei purred. "May I speak to you a moment? In private?"

"I suppose."

The three of them walked to a more secluded section of the common area and sat on some benches. Trithirin looked from one to the other.

"What can I do for you, Theta?" she asked.

Theta pulled the "borrowed" copy of _The Collected Works of Jules _Verne out of his outer robe pocket. "I believe you wanted to read this?"

Trithirin smiled and accepted the book. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it. When would you like it back."

Theta smiled. "When you're done. No real rush." He shot Koschei a look that dared him to say a word. Koschei just smiled his smarmiest smile. "Actually, Irin, there was something else…" Theta explained the situation, leaving out the vague details Koschei had shared with him about the ten-legged spiders.

"I see," Trithirin said thoughtfully. "You want my help, Koschei, but you're happy to let Theta ask for you? Hardly seems like the way to go about it."

Kochei held up his hands. "Theta told me to let him handle it. So like a good boy, I did as I was told."

"For once," Theta muttered under his breath.

Trithirin smirked. "Very well. I shall help you under one condition: you must never interrupt or make trouble in any class we might have the misfortune of sharing."

Koschei did his best to look honest and endearing. "Done."

Trithirin paused to weigh her options for suggestions. Then she settled on one. "Mixed media."

Koschei frowned. "What?"  
>"The professor of Stasis Cube Art gives higher marks to students who create their own materials for the project rather than simply using the premade samples. The students' own paintings, sculptures, and the like. Thus, mixed media."<p>

Theta nodded. "There you go, Koschei. Thanks, Irin. Now I can get back to my own studies. Finally."

The two Prydonians made to leave.

"Wait," Trithirin called after them. "Don't forget to clean up the art room after you're done. Leaving a dirty workspace will cost you points."

Koschei made a gallant, mocking bow. "As you say."


	5. Study Buddies

**Author's Note: I'm supposed to be writing my novel for National Novel Writing Month, but these two hijacked my mind. *shakes fist* Time Lords!**

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who and it's characters don't belong to me.**

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><p><strong><em><span>Study Buddies<span>_**

Theta Sigma looked up from the notes he was trying to study. He'd resorted to wearing what he called his "brainy specs": spectacles that highlighted keywords and made him look—and feel—smarter. The spectacles had slipped down to the end of his nose, so he was now glaring at Koschei over the top of them. Koschei rather liked the image, if he was being honest.

Theta sighed. "Why is it," he asked with a measured cadence, "that whenever I am trying to get any work done, you decide to pester me? I have told you before, Koschei, I'm done with harebrained schemes."

"I beg to differ," Koschei drawled. "I recall week before last someone created a gravity destabilizer and turned the classroom upside down." He quirked an eyebrow.

Theta's gaze shifted back to his notes. He pushed up his spectacles. "That was…an experiment. For a class."

"And the fact that Borusa had to lecture Emotional Detachment upside down without losing his temper?"

Theta cracked a smile. "A fortunate happenstance, I suppose."

Koschei sat next to Theta and laid out the plans over Theta's notes for Temporal Mechanics. Theta skimmed the plans, his eyes progressively growing larger the more he read. Koschei smirked. Those "brainy specs" of Theta's were surely picking up on all the right words. Theta may claim he was through being subversively disruptive, but Koschei knew better. They were cut from the same cloth, he and Theta.

Theta hesitated. Then he pushed the plan for the practical joke off of his notes. "I… That's impressive, Koschei, but I simply must decline. I haven't the time."

Koschei made a face. "I don't understand why you're so worried. You _can_ take the graduation exam more than once, you know."

"Yes," Theta said slowly, patronizingly, "but I don't want to have to take it more than once."

Koschei shrugged. "It's not that bad."

Theta's eyes shot wide. "You've already taken it? When?"

Koschei shrugged and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Oh this morning. Honestly, it's nothing to get your robes in a twist over. The Cosmic Science section was embarrassingly basic. You should be fine." He pushed the practical joke page back over the class notes. "So what do you say?"

Theta Sigma was plainly torn between being responsible and having a bit of fun. He pursed his lips. Then he looked at Koschei over the top of his spectacles again. "You'll be the death of me one day, Koschei. Fine."

"You're in?"

"Yes. Count me in. But after this, we're through. For good. No more."

Koschei dipped his head in assent, smirking. "Whatever you say."


	6. Final Exam the First

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me. Sigh.

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><p><em><span><strong>Final Exam the First<strong>_

As soon as he received the results to his graduation examinations, Theta Sigma skulked off to be alone. Or, perhaps, "_sulked_ off to be alone" would be the better way to describe. Except that Theta Sigma did _not_ sulk. Nor did he pout, or whine, or whinge, or…

Who was he kidding? Of course, he knew he could take the test as many times as necessary to pass. He knew a few classmates in the Prydonian Chapter had had to do just that. And he had heard Trithirin mention a Patrex student who had needed as many as ten times to pass. Theta had brushed off that comment as urban legend. Trithirin could have been exaggerating, given how stressed she was about the idea of the exams, even when she was probably better prepared than half of Theta's circle of friends. Drax, for example, who was brilliant at practical work but was rather hopeless when it came to written exams.

And then of course there was Koschei, who had claimed the final examinations were nothing special. The prat. And Ushas, who sailed through everything scientific and logical. She surely had had no issues with the final test. Theta leaned against the corridor wall and wiped a hand over his face in despair. Why couldn't he test better? Or study better? Koschei was definitely to blame in the distraction department. Theta himself was to blame in the concentration department, and in the "keeping his mouth shut" department. Arguing back to the proctor was never a good idea.

Theta's one saving grace was that no one but him would know how badly he had failed the exam; and no one would know how many times he had to take the test to pass, unless he opened his gob and incriminated himself. The records would be sealed. No one could know. Theta felt a bit bolstered by this, though he was still utterly frustrated with the need to take the wretched exam again. Time to cut ties with all his friends, become a hermit, and study, study, study. He could retake the test in three weeks, at the earliest. Theta squared his shoulders and pushed off from the wall. Three weeks? Child's play. Nothing could stop him. He could graduate with his peers—he _would_ do it. Of course he would.

He was Theta Sigma, after all.


	7. Mutually Assured Destruction

**Author's Note: **The Patrex House is notable for their advanced telepathic abilities. (Prydonians are notable for their skill at languages. Arcalians are notable for their skill in temporal technology.) Also:

_The Doctor: "Well, my immediate plans are to expose you as an impostor."_

_The Master: "That would be very foolish of you. My credentials are immaculate."_

_The Doctor: "Forged, of course."_

_The Master: "Of course. But, immaculate. May I see your credentials, Doctor?"_

_The Doctor: "Don't be absurd."_

_The Master: "What? No interplanetary travel permit? No registration for your TARDIS? No personal identification?"_

_~Colony in Space: Part 4_

**Disclaimer: **I can only claim Irin as mine. Everything else is, sadly, not mine.

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><p><span><strong><em>Mutually Assured Destruction<em>**

Koschei was free. Free from the Academy at last. All that was left was the Naming and then the Graduation ceremony. Finally. He was over all the students and their petty squabbles and the professors and their pomposity. He was ready to face the universe and show it what he was made of.

Unfortunately, freed from his responsibilities, he had nothing to distract him. Theta was holed up in his room, studying his brains out. Koschei had a feeling his exams had not been going well of late. Theta was supposed to have taken the final examination, but he'd said nothing about it. So perhaps he had not taken it yet, after all. Or he had and he was hiding in shame at his poor performance. Koschei's lips twisted into a smile. That could be it.

So, without academics and without Theta to help him cause havoc, Koschei had but one thing on his mind. That incessant tapping. The drumming noise that he'd carried with him all his life. It was just a quiet presence, always there, rhythmic like the beating of his hearts. Perhaps that was all it was: his hearing was over-keen and catching the sound of his hearts pumping blood.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Except, Koschei had a problem with his own theory. The sound wasn't organic. It was very pointed, very clear.

Taptaptap, tap.

Tap tap tap. Tap.

One.

Two.

Three.

FOUR.

Koschei caught himself knocking his knuckles against the wall. He grimaced and prowled down the corridor. Distraction, distraction, he needed some kind of distraction. He passed by one of the art rooms and paused. The room was darkened, empty. Wait, that wasn't quite true. There was an ultraviolet lamp on in the back. Someone was doing some kind of artistic experiment involving light wavelengths and… Well, he couldn't quite tell what. But this could prove fun. He stole into the room, carefully measuring his steps so as not to make a sound. As he got closer, he realized that he recognized the unsuspecting Patrex. It was that girl who had helped him out with his stasis cube art hassle. The one to whom Theta had lent his stolen—ahem, borrowed—book. The one he had shared Advanced Telepathy with. Trithirin. He was right behind her now, ready to give her the fright of her life.

"When you sneak up on someone," she drawled, "don't forget to mask your telepathic signature."

Koschei was taken aback. "How long did you know?"

"Since you came in the room."

Koschei made a face. Shown up by a girl. How pathetic. He leaned on the counter, eying her project closely.

"What've we got here?" he asked, his voice dripping with false charm. "Looks quite interesting."

"Shove off," Irin said without malice. "Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

Koschei deliberated on how he wanted to respond to that. "Perhaps, but I'd much rather annoy you." He grinned. "So, what _are_ you working on?"

Irin hesitated. "I'm…experimenting."

"Yes," Koschei said slowly, as though to a child, "I can see that."

"You asked."

"I expected an intelligent answer. Perhaps I was expecting too much from a Patrex."

Irin slapped him hard. He pulled back, his hand cradling his cheek, nothing but shock on his face. No one had ever dared to strike him before. He couldn't say he liked the sharp sensation of pain. But he had to concede that it had taken him by surprise. He had not expected such a quick temper from one of the artsy-writing types. From one of his fellow Prydonians, yes; not from her. He liked her spirit.

"Touché," he said, still rubbing his cheek gently.

"I shouldn't have hit you," Irin said at length, her eyes never leaving her work. "That was unbecoming of a Time Lord. I—"

"You lost your temper." He shrugged, the corners of his lips turning up. "Color me surprised."

She said nothing more and he lapsed into silence, watching her bathe her 'experiment' in ultraviolet light and chemicals of various sorts. The process was actually quite fascinating. Whatever she was doing, it was obviously not something taught as a regular part of any class.

"Stop it," Irin commanded about ten minutes later.

Koschei frowned. "Stop what?"

He genuinely had no idea what he'd done now. Which was odd. He always knew when he'd done something wrong. These days, bored out of his mind now that classes were over for him, he relished the trouble. It gave him a distraction. And it was generally just plain fun.

Now it was Irin's turn to smile. "You're thinking too loud."

Koschei chuckled. "Look, am I ever going to find out what you're doing?"

"Will you go away if I tell you?"

He considered the question. "Perhaps. But remember, my dear, you did slap me. I could always complain…"

Irin sighed in defeat. "I could always deny it," she said half-heartedly.

"And draw attention to yourself with an inquest into the matter? I don't think so." His smile turned predatory. He had her there. She would never want to be spotlighted for rule-breaking.

"Fine," she all but growled. "I'm…making my own official documents. Or, trying to see if I can."

Koschei's whole countenance lit up. That was priceless. She was forging documents? For fun? He had always wanted to try his hand at something of that nature, just for the challenge.

"Are you getting anywhere with it?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his interest.

Irin stared at him. "You're not going to turn me in?"

Koschei raised his hands, palm up. "For what? Creating art?"

Irin regarded him levelly, with shrewd eyes, obviously trying to ascertain whether she could—or should—trust him. Koschei smiled his most charming, disarming smile. He did his level best to exude charm and trustworthiness. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'd like to put myself under your tutelage—for the sake of gaining knowledge in an academic sense, of course."

Irin seemed about to falter. Then she shrugged him off. "You're good. You're very good."

She regarded Koschei with a new interest. Dare he say it: she appeared to have gained a level of respect?

"Does that mean I don't have to go to the Patrex Chapter Head…?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You may be almost through with the Academy, but that doesn't mean you're untouchable. Remember that."

He laughed. "What could you possibly have on me?"

Irin smiled prettily, but her eyes remained cold. "You might be surprised."

Then she proceeded to walk him through the processes she had already played with. She knew her stuff, Koschei had to grant that much. She might have her uses, after all…


	8. Puppy Love

**Author's Note: ** Ah, The Master and the Rani. It's a classic case of "pulling her pigtails because he likes her".

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me.

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><p>Ushas was proud. Blunt. Logical. Aloof. Intimidating. And absolutely gorgeous. Her intellect was stunning and her outward appearance just about matched it. There was just one problem.<p>

She hated Koschei's guts.

But he didn't mind. In fact, he rather liked pestering her. Any attention was better than none at all. Especially now that Theta Sigma had sequestered himself in his study room, suddenly deciding once again to try to be a model student. The graduation ceremony was just three days away. Who knew where they would all end up; they would all go their separate ways, to their own careers. Trithirin had been entertaining to annoy; she had also taught him some very interesting artistic techniques. But she was a Patrex and a model student and goody-goody and thus, quite dull.

Ushas, though—she always had something up her sleeve, so to speak. Like Koschei, she was often up to no good, but she was more subtle about it. More scientific about it. She had her standards and her pride, backed up by a sarcastic wit and a sparkling intellect. Too bad she couldn't stand him. They would be unstoppable. Ah well. For the present, Koschei was happy getting her to speak to him, even if it was just to tell him off.


	9. After-Party

**Author's Note: **The final instalment of _Tales of the Time Lord Academy_. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I've another story in the works; hopefully it will be up soon. Keep an eye out. ;)

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me. A Vortisaur might be a fun pet, though…

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><p><strong><em><span>After-Party<span>_**

No one was certain how it happened.

At first, everything was perfect in its pomp and circumstance and gravitas. The Naming went as smoothly as it ever had. The Graduation Ceremony was perfect in every detail. Not one student so much as had a hair out of place. Everything was as precise as an atomic clock keyed to the chroniton particles of the Eye of Harmony. No one, not even Koschei, had dared to disrupt the proceedings in any way. Each and every student of each and every Chapter of the Time Lord Academy was the very model of a proud and noble and responsible Time Lord. Theta had managed to pass—barely, but that was no one's business as the records were sealed—and walk with the rest of his class.

Thus, after all was complete, no one expected anything out of the ordinary. Yet, somehow, three Vortisaurs had escaped from their enclosures and were running loose in the open common area. The Vortisaurs, with their large wingspans and flailing tails would most certainly cause a lot of damage if left to their own devices. So what was the most natural course of action, then, for mature and dignified newly christened Time Lords and Ladies?

Bareback Vortisaur races, of course. What else?


End file.
